


My Baby Got Lost Finding His Way Around

by literaryempress



Series: My Ask Box Corner [9]
Category: Shameless (US)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Angst, Betrayal, Boyfriends, Crying, Delusions, Denial, Depression, Emotional Hurt, Heavy Angst, Insecure Mickey, Isolation, M/M, Mental Breakdown, Mental Health Issues, Mental Instability, Mental Institutions, Non-Bipolar Ian, Originally Posted on Tumblr, Panic, Panic Attacks, Paranoia, Paranoid Personality Disorder, Partner Betrayal, Self-Harm, Sick Mickey, Tumblr Ask Box Fic, Tumblr Prompt, Worried Mickey, Worry
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-05-20
Updated: 2016-05-20
Packaged: 2018-06-09 14:12:26
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,630
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6910495
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/literaryempress/pseuds/literaryempress
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Original Prompt: <em>Hi, Ive got a prompt. What if Mickey suffered from paranoia (as in mental illness) and all the bad things that Ian had done to him were made up in his mind(that is, Ian being diagnosed with bipolar, cheated on him, dumped him..), while in reality Ian and the other Gallaghars are doing everything to take care of him. I hope you understand what I'm trying to get across (not a native speaker sorry)</em></p><p>Canon up to 3x11. Each memory of Ian's downward spiral is like a ghost in Mickey's mind. He can acknowledge their existence with a snap of his fingers. However, everyone else - Ian included - knows they never existed. This idea is the same in reverse. Everyone knows that something was mentally wrong with Mickey Milkovich except Mickey himself.</p>
            </blockquote>





	My Baby Got Lost Finding His Way Around

Gray rain clouds filled the sky above the city of Chicago one afternoon. The puddles on the sidewalk were getting deeper by the minute, and cars splashed some of the ones in the streets. This isn’t the kind of weather anyone should be tampering with, and Mickey knows it. He knows that Ian knows it. All he wants is for Ian to make it home safely; otherwise, a thunder bolt could strike him at any moment, and he could potentially die.

Ian Gallagher couldn’t leave. Not now. Not tomorrow. Not ever.

Mickey couldn’t let him leave. His heart could only keep itself together for so long before it shattered into bits at the tiniest interruption.

Ian Gallagher couldn’t leave, and Mickey Milkovich didn’t want him to.

He couldn’t keep looking out the window for much longer, because if he did, then he would lose his mind even more than he already was. So Mickey retreated to the kitchen to grab himself a beer, only to turn back around and take a seat at the couch, staring ahead at the rain drops tapping against the window on the other side.

The weather forecast stated that it should be sixty-eight degrees outside. _Ian shouldn’t be out there_ , Mickey thought to himself as the alcohol ran through his system. _It’s too fucking cold for that shit_.

The tattooed man was seconds close to calling his boyfriend’s phone for the fourteenth time that day when the door creaked open, the sound of precipitation getting louder as it did. A redhead poked his head through the front door, closing his umbrella and shaking the water off on the porch. _Thank fucking Christ_ , Mickey thought to himself, because he couldn’t stand the idea of waiting another minute.

“Where the fuck were you?” Mickey asked, setting his beer down on the coffee table.

Ian turned his head and cast a bewildered facial expression at him. “I told you,” he reminded Mickey as the shorter man got closer. “I went to work.”

 _He still goes to that goddamn strip joint, I bet_ , Mickey thought to himself. He hated that place. All of those forty-somethings taking out their dirty fifty-dollar bills and hiding them in Ian’s golden booty shorts. They all took advantage of him, and Mickey knows it. None of them loved Ian as much as Mickey did, and they never will. Pretentious bastards.

Ian must have sensed Mickey’s irritation, because once he closed the door and shrugged off his rain-soaked sweater, he asked, “something wrong, Mick?”

“You shouldn’t be over there, Ian.”

Ian’s frown got deeper underneath the red strands of hair that stuck to his forehead. “I have to, Mick. We can’t survive on Chinese take-out all day.”

“Then get another fucking job!” Mickey was now yelling at him, and Ian felt even more uncomfortable by his demeanor. What possessed the Milkovich boy to lash out on Ian like this?

Ian walked past Mickey to hang his sweater up and head to Mickey’s bedroom, which they both shared with each other for a while. Ever since they officially got together, Ian would come over to the Milkovich residence to sleep in Mickey’s queen-sized bed, which felt a heap tons softer than his twin-sized childhood bed. “Mick, it’s good pay, and everyone over there loves me,” Ian told his boyfriend as he walked, with Mickey on his heels. “And they provide additional benefits.”

Mickey’s eyebrows rose to his hair line. “You find something beneficial about a bunch of queens licking their filthy tongues across your face and shoving dollars up your ass?”

The taller man stopped, his back facing Mickey for a couple of seconds. When he turned back around, his frown remained. _The fuck is he mad for?_ Mickey wondered to himself as he glanced back at him. _I’m trying to help out his lanky ass_.

“What are you talking about, Mick?” Ian asked, his tone more serious and his voice a little low.

 _I should be asking the same thing_ , Mickey retorted in his mind. Ian had to know how terrible this job was for him, right?

Right?

“I don’t work at a fucking strip joint, Mick.”

As if Mickey didn’t already know Ian was already in denial after the many times he denied his medication.

Mickey let out a breathy laugh. “You’ve gotta be shitting me –“

“I’m not.”

“I fucking saw you the other night.”

“I was never there, Mick,” Ian defended himself. “I don’t even know where the hell one is. What’s the matter with you –“

“What’s the matter is that you’re sticking one in other guys’ asses while I’m sitting _my_ ass over here, waiting for you to come home,” Mickey blurted out. Ian continued to stare at him, incredibly perplexed. “You seriously okay with that? You know, waiting for the next old fairy throw their wrinkly ass in the air and you getting money for fucking him and shit?”

“Mickey –“

A long, exasperated sigh escaped Mickey’s lips before Ian had the chance to explain himself. “You know what? Fuck it.” He used his tattooed fingers to rub the migraine out of his forehead, but it didn’t seem to work. So instead, he stormed past Ian and grabbed some random clothes out of his drawers.

“What are you doing?” Ian asked, watching Mickey pull some clean boxers out of the second drawer.

“Taking a fuckin’ shower,” Mickey grumbled, slamming the drawers close. He bumped shoulders with Ian before he stormed to the bathroom entrance, slamming the door behind him as he got ready to clean himself up.

A dumbfounded Ian stared back at the bathroom door in confusion for a few seconds. That’s when he found himself reaching into his pocket and grabbing his cell phone, walking into Mickey’s room and closing the door behind him.  Several rings later, Fiona picked up. “Hello?”

“Fiona?”

“Hey, Ian. What’s up?”

Ian bit down on his bottom lip, his eyes training to Mickey’s cell phone on the bed. It was on fifteen percent, and when Ian unlocked it, the first thing he spotted was the internet browser open on a page that had the number to a club called The Fairy Tail. Ian had no idea where that even was, and for Mickey to say that he was there worried the redhead.

“Ian?” Fiona asked again, concern growing in her voice.

Ian let out a shaky exhale before he spoke. “I think there’s something wrong with Mickey.”

* * *

It stopped raining the next day, but that didn’t mean the day was any brighter. In fact, it was pretty much the same as yesterday minus the precipitation. The sky was as cloudy as Ian’s mind as he made the trip all the way to the Gallagher household. He was deeply concerned about Mickey and why he had these suspicions about him, none of them which made any sense.

Someone had to have the answers to all of this, and Ian was willing to search for them.

“The Fairy Tail?” his older sister asked, furrowing her eyebrows at Ian.

Ian nodded, adding more force to the grip he had on the beer bottle in front of him. “He said I went there to put my dick in older guys,” he added in his monotone voice. He shrugged. “I don’t know anything about that place.”

“Does Mickey know?” Veronica asked, grabbing a beer for herself from out of the fridge.

“I tried telling him,” Ian confessed, feeling defeated, “practically a hundred times. He won’t listen to me. And I told him I was going to the Target close to campus before I left yesterday.” Ian shrugged. “He was probably either falling back asleep or must have forgot.”

Well, that was the only explanation Ian could come up with, anyway.

Veronica and Fiona shared a silent look. Ian knew that they both knew something was wrong, but Ian didn’t have the slightest clue what they were thinking. “What? What is it?” he asked the both of them, turning his head from Veronica to Fiona and back.

With a small gulp, Veronica focused her attention back to Ian. “Um, Ian…” she started, clearing her throat. There was a brief pause. “Do you think it might be, um…”

“What? I don’t get it.” Where was Veronica getting at? What did she want Ian to know? How was this helping Ian’s situation at all?

Veronica bit down on her bottom lip, casting a glance at Fiona for a quick second and then eyeing Ian once again. “Have you looked into whether or not it could be…paranoia?”

“Paranoia?”

“As in…um,” Veronica stammered for a moment, “a mental illness?”

Ian didn’t want to believe it the moment the words left her mouth. _Mickey with a mental illness?_ He thought to himself. _It can’t be_. Mickey looked just as fine as Ian was, and the idea of him suffering from a mental illness gave Ian some of the wrong images of him.

“One of the women I worked with at the group home had something like that,” Veronica continued. “Uh –“ She snapped her fingers a bit, trying to recall the memory. “Delores. She had a husband that went to war fifteen years ago but died serving in Iraq. And every time we came to her room to give her medicine, she would always get worried about whether or not she would come back to Chicago for this big dinner she had planned –“

“What does all of this have to do with Mickey?” Ian asked, still perplexed by where Veronica was getting at.

Veronica gulped again, putting her hands on her hips. “Ian…” she started again, nerves getting the better of her. “Mickey might have PPD.”

Ian’s frown got even deeper on his forehead. “PPD? What the hell is that?”

“Paranoid personality disorder,” Veronica explained. “Like, he’s having trouble trusting other people and believing what they say is right.”

“Mickey knows he can trust me,” Ian argued, standing up from the stool and feeling hurt. They’ve been in a relationship for a few years now, and Ian feels as though he can talk to and do anything with Mickey and vice versa. They laugh together, smile together, kiss together – they do _everything_ together.

One memory that stood out the most was when Ian and Mickey were getting high in the abandoned buildings at one point. He wasn’t sure if it was because they were high or that Mickey was serious at first, but Ian does remember Mickey saying, “you’re the only person I can talk to about anything, you know?”

Turns out, after that day, Mickey stood by his word. Ian held onto those words for a long time and continued to fulfill Mickey’s need for someone in his life to trust. Ian felt he succeeded.

Now that Veronica was giving him this information, he wasn’t so sure anymore.

“Does he really know, Ian?” Veronica challenged him, watching as Ian ran his hand through his red hair. “You just told us he doesn’t believe you when you told him about work. Remember? Going to the club, leaving him at home to wait for you, having sex with other guys? He’s doubting your loyalty, and that’s very well a sign.”

“What makes you think it’s a disorder and not a really bad nightmare? Why does it have to be a disorder that’s causing him all these problems? It – it has to be something else. It could be anything, right? Right?”

Veronica sighed, and Fiona gave her brother a worried expression. They both could tell that Ian was in denial about all of this. He had the right to be. Knowing that your significant other could potentially have a mental illness was a lot to take off one plate. Both women knew how much Ian loved Mickey. They knew how much Mickey loved Ian. Those were definite facts.

But they wanted Ian to understand the cold, hard truth. Same goes for Mickey.

“Ian?” Fiona spoke first in a very calm voice, and Ian turned his head in his sister’s direction. “Can you…do you know if something like this has happened before now? You know, Mickey behaving…a little irrationally or anything? We have to be certain if it’s really what Vee’s talking about.” Veronica nodded in agreement.

The redhead dug deep into his own thoughts. Nothing from his memories stood out that well.

“Like, have you two ever gotten into a recent fight, or –“

“Other than this one, no.”

“What about isolation?” Veronica suggested. “It’s another symptom of the disorder. You know, not wanting to be around people and stuff like that. Has Mickey felt anything similar to that recently?”

Ian shook his head. “Not recently, no.”

“Before?”

Ian shrugged. “I don’t know.” There was a tense pause between the three of them, and then Ian’s shoulders deflated a little. “Something happened at his house a while back, though, and…”

“And what?” Fiona asked.

“He…” Ian’s eyes fell to the tiles on the kitchen floor, a series of events rushing into his memory.

* * *

A few months ago, Mickey was scheduled to get married to Svetlana, the Russian woman his father hired to “fuck the faggot” out of him. Somehow, his plan managed to work, though it left Ian extremely devastated. It was a difficult time for Ian to deal with, and that led him to stay with the Gallaghers until he got his head on straight.

Weeks later, he received a call from his younger sister Mandy. Her voice wavered on the other line in worry, and Ian was under the impression that someone got hurt.

No one really got hurt, but Mandy’s words started to hurt Ian.

“Ian, you have to get over here right now. Mickey won’t get out of bed, and he’s not letting me talk to him. He’s been crying all night, and I think something’s wrong. He wants to hurt himself. You need to help me. Please.”

Ian was over there within fifteen minutes. Mickey’s state was just how Mandy described it: fragile, devastating, and reserved. Mandy had explained more of what happened while Ian was away since the shotgun marriage. He refused to eat, and if he ate on a certain day, he would only eat three or four bites. Terry would threaten Mickey to leave the house to run some errands, but Mickey protested, saying he wanted to stay in bed. On some nights, he would cry himself to sleep, mumbling something incoherent.

This night seemed to be the worst, according to Mandy. She told Ian that Mickey kept on telling himself, “it’s my fault,” in a depressing mantra into his pillow. To top it off, Mandy noticed that Mickey sometimes slept with a switchblade in his hands.

For weeks, Ian has been mad at Mickey for leaving him to get hitched with someone else – a woman, for that matter. Now when he saw him, he couldn’t help but to feel Mickey’s pain being transferred over to him. Ian had the choice to either hold a grudge for a little while longer, or to go in Mickey’s room and calm the crying Milkovich down.

And that’s when Ian realized that he couldn’t stay mad forever.

With that, Ian stayed in Mickey’s room to wipe away all of the oncoming tears. Mickey was overcome with relief the moment his eyes rested on the redhead. _His_ redhead.

“I’m sorry,” Mickey choked out a little sob into Ian’s sweater. “I’m so fucking sorry, Ian. I made you run away…because I was such a fucking scaredy cat. I never want to do that to you again, you hear me? I promise, I want to make it better, Ian. Just –“

He hid his face in Ian’s sweater again. Ian didn’t get where Mickey was coming from. Ian never ran away to begin with; he was at the Gallagher house the entire time nor did Ian even have the idea of wanting to run away in his mind. He hadn’t thought that way since Monica came back to the Gallagher house to take Liam away from the household.

Still, that didn’t stop Ian from rubbing circles on Mickey’s back, laboring the shorter man’s cries and bringing more warmth to his fragile body. “Ian, I’m so fucking sorry,” Mickey sobbed, his words muffled a bit in the sweater.

Ian remembered that day like he remembered his cell phone number. Something about that day felt so triggering, but to know that Mickey recovered from it brought him back to Earth. As long as he and Mickey were together, Ian thought that nothing could stand in their way.

Nothing…except for a mental illness that was fucking with both Ian and Mickey’s heads.

* * *

“He once thought that I ran away,” Ian spoke softly, only realizing that he was addressing the other two women in the room. “He thought I ran away to the army once, and…”

“Ian, when was this?” Veronica asked, leaning forward to rest her elbows on the counter.

“A few months ago,” Ian answered. “December, I think.” Fiona ran a hand over her mouth, and Veronica nodded in response. “I didn’t distance myself from him on purpose,” Ian continued. “He had gotten married, and I was upset, but that didn’t make me run away or anything serious like that. And I didn’t run to the army, either. I still take ROTC classes. I once told him I was going, but he…”

It didn’t take long before he realized that Veronica’s words were coming back to him. Did Mickey really believe Ian left for the army? Did he refuse to believe that Ian was still taking ROTC? What even gave him the idea that Ian would sacrifice his chances in the army anyway?

Veronica nodded after Ian’s brief pause. That was all the information she needed. “Ian,” she spoke softly, bringing a hand over to Ian’s forearm and grabbing it gently. “Mickey might be sick. I say _might_ because we won’t fully know for sure until we take him to a doctor.”

Ian’s eyes got a little heavy at Veronica’s words. He wanted to take care of Mickey, but he didn’t want to send Mickey to a doctor. Maybe he was in denial about this possible disorder; maybe he wasn’t. Regardless, that was his Mickey, and the thought of anything being wrong with him hurt Ian. He could feel his world falling apart at the thought of Mickey being lost in his own mind with this goddamn personality disorder taking it over.

“There – there has to be something else we can do,” Ian spoke, his voice hitching in a couple of areas. “He can’t be sick. He looks fine.”

“Mental illnesses don’t have to physically affect you, Ian,” Fiona reminded him, bringing a hand to Ian’s back. “Trust us. Mickey needs help, and we can’t do anything if neither one of you acknowledge that something is wrong. That’s the first step. Mickey needs you, whether he directly says he does or not. If you really love him, you have to make sure his needs are intact.”

Ian knew she had a point, and he was willing to do anything to care for his boyfriend. This, however, was a lot to process. The concept of paranoid personality disorder was so new to him; he only just heard of it minutes ago. Now they’re jumping straight to diagnoses and getting Mickey treatment, yet Ian’s stuck on square one, specifically on accepting that such a disorder could reach Mickey’s system.

Fiona’s ringtone brought Ian out of his trance, and Fiona dropped her hand from Ian’s back to answer the phone call. “Hello?” she spoke into the receiver. Whoever was on the line was a little loud – or maybe the room was just too silent – so Ian found himself trying to listen onto the conversation. “Mickey?”

Shit. Mickey was probably looking for him.

Fiona stood up from her seat by the counter and paced around a bit, listening to Mickey’s panicked cries. “Okay, hold on, sweetie,” she tried calming him, but another wave of complaints came out of Mickey’s mouth before she could explain herself. “No, no, no, no, no.”

Ian’s heart was beating against his chest. What could Mickey be possibly telling her?

“No, Mickey, he’s right here,” Fiona told him after a moment of silence. Mickey said something else, and Fiona replied with, “he’s right here, at the Gallagher house. I promise.” Another pause. “Do you want to talk to him?” Fiona asked him, only to repeat the question once more. A couple of seconds later, Fiona nodded her head. “Okay, baby. I’ll put him on the line, okay? Just hold on.”

As he walked over to Fiona to retrieve her phone, Ian wondered to himself, _how come Mickey didn’t just call my cell? Why did he have to call Fiona’s?_

Ian took the iPhone with the green phone case on it and held it up to his ear, timidly anticipating the response he would get from the raven-haired man. “Mick?” Ian asked, clearing his throat a bit. He heard Mickey’s worried voice when Fiona was sitting right next to him, but he wasn’t sure if he was ready to hear it this close to his ears.

“Where the fuck were you?” Mickey asked, his voice wavering a bit. His voice dragged a little, too, and that led Ian to believe that Mickey woke up from his nap Ian left him in when he was preparing to head to the Gallagher house.

“I…” Ian stated, his heart dropping some. _Didn’t Fiona just tell him I was here?_ “I’m at home. I just…wanted to talk with my family for a minute.”

“I looked for you all day, Ian,” Mickey confessed, his throat closing up somewhere. “I waited for you for too fucking long. Why would you fucking leave me like that? Where the hell’s Yevgeny? You left with him this morning, too, didn’t you? Is he okay?”

“I didn’t leave you, Mick. I’m over here with Fiona, remember? And Yevvie’s fine. He’s with Lana at the doctor’s office, remember?” Ian explained. He could feel his own ankles giving out on him. What led Mickey into believing that Ian ran away with Yevgeny? Why would Ian do such a thing? He loves that baby too much to put it in harm’s way.

Besides, Ian’s certain that he would be getting an earful from Svetlana if anything like that ever happened.

Mickey took a shaky breath in and out, leaving Ian a little uneasy inside. “I’m just…I’m worried about you,” he whispered into the receiver. A beat followed, and soon, Mickey said, “I love you. Please, just…” Mickey sniffled a bit, and Ian could feel his own eyes sting. “Just…come back home, Ian. Please.” Ian could tell Mickey was crying again, and he wanted to cry himself for hearing that sound come out of his mouth.

With some finality, Ian nodded slowly, staring at a single spot on the floor and trying to steady his own chin. It definitely wasn’t easy. “I will, Mick. Just hang tight. I’m coming home, okay?” he whispered back into the receiver. “I love you.”

“Love you, too,” Mickey croaked, and both men hung up soon after that.

Fiona and Veronica were staring ahead at the redhead with sympathetic eyes. Ian stood in the middle of the floor, his head falling in defeat. Veronica could be right. There really could be something wrong with Mickey. Maybe he really does have what Veronica said she has…fucking PPD.

He felt hands on his shoulders, but didn’t dare to turn around and face the culprit with tears forming in his eyes. “I want Vee and I to come with you, Ian, okay?” she asked him. “We just want to check on you both and see if this is what we really think it is. Is that okay with you?”

At this point, Ian felt he had no other choice.

* * *

The outside atmosphere was still covered in clouds and gloom, which reflected everyone’s current mood.

Fiona, Ian, and Veronica entered the Milkovich residence minutes later. Mandy and Svetlana were there, and Yevgeny was asleep in the little playpen they had set up for him in the living room.

“He won’t let us in,” Svetlana told everyone quietly in the event that Mickey overheard anything. “Says he wants Orange Boy.”

A tear-stained Mandy had sniffled a bit, her eyes trained on Mickey’s bedroom door. “He’s in a ball under the sheets on the bed,” she told Ian. “I tried to get him up, but he was crying and wouldn’t let me touch him.”

Ian knew just how bad all of this was when Mandy said that. He was aware that Mickey and Mandy weren’t the kind of siblings that engaged in a lot of physical contact with each other, but they still cared about each other nonetheless. So to hear that Mickey was this distant from his own sister fractured his heart even further than it already was.

The redhead looked at everyone in the room before he slowly made his way to Mickey’s bedroom. Just as Mandy described, Mickey was hidden underneath the thin bed sheets, curled in the tightest ball Ian’s ever seen him in. He just looked so small, and it devastated Ian to even gaze at him. He could even hear a couple of Mickey’s sobs. They were muffled due to the sheets over his head, but Ian could still hear them.

“Mick?” Ian whispered into the dark room. The lights had been turned off, and the window in Mickey’s room didn’t cast much sunlight inside, with all of the dark clouds hovering over the city and all.

The redhead walked a little closer to Mickey’s form near the foot of the bed, kneeling down in front of it and removing the sheets from over his head. The couple stared into each other’s eyes, Mickey appearing more scared and heart-broken than anything. Ian shook at his drained, red face covered in tears. His Mickey was sad, and Ian didn’t like it when his Mickey was sad.

Ian ran a hand over Mickey’s face, wiping away a couple of tears. Mickey stared back at Ian as though time stopped abruptly, reaching a hand from under the sheets and holding Ian’s hand there on his left cheek. “Ian?” It was very soft and quiet, but Ian heard it.

“I’m right here, Mick,” Ian told him in a comforting voice. He sniffled a bit before a smile appeared on his face. That didn’t make his tears stop falling, though. “You’re okay, Mick. You’re okay.” They gazed at each other for a little longer before Ian leaned down to place a soft, assuring kiss onto Mickey’s lips.

Neither one of them noticed Fiona, Veronica, Mandy, and Svetlana watching the scene from the doorway with heavy hearts. Ian had climbed into the bed right next to Mickey, and Mickey scooted over a bit to give Ian access to the space in front of him. The two of them knew that they had each other, which was all that mattered.

Fiona and Veronica knew, too, but they also knew that another thing that mattered was their health. Ian had to cave in and turn Mickey into a doctor sooner or later, which would require some work.

* * *

Fiona agreed to spend the night at the Milkovich residence to check on Ian and Mickey, much to Ian’s dismay. The next morning, she left the bathroom, already dressed in some clean clothes, and arrived in the living room to Mickey pacing back and forth into the kitchen, checking the cupboards for something she couldn’t put her finger on.

“Mickey?” Fiona asked, watching him from the archway that separated the living room from the kitchen. He didn’t answer; he just opened the utensils drawer and continued his search. “Mick, what are you looking for?”

“Ian’s meds. He’s supposed to take them today,” Mickey answered, closing the utensils drawer in favor of checking the cabinet with the cereal inside.

“Mickey –“

“Fuck!” Mickey exclaimed, slamming the drawer shut when he found out that there was only a half-eaten bag of Fruit Loops were inside.

Fiona slowly walked in his direction, saying, “Mickey, you do know Ian doesn’t have meds, right?”

“What, he run out?”

“No, I mean…” Fiona started until Mickey turned his head towards her. She took a breath as she observed Mickey’s face. Letting him down easy wasn’t going to be as easy as Fiona predicted. If anything, trying to let him down at all would be difficult, considering how stubborn the youngest Milkovich man really was. “Ian doesn’t take medication,” Fiona explained.

Mickey’s eyebrows furrowed at her. “W-What the fuck do you mean? You said so yourself. He has that – that…that bipolar shit, remember?”

Bipolar disorder. Mickey thought Ian had bipolar disorder.

How that managed to come up, Fiona wasn’t sure. She never said anything about her younger brother having a mental illness, though she does know that Mickey’s was intensifying by the day. Had she hung out around the Milkovich residence more often than she did, and she would have caught onto it before it got as serious as it did now.

“He never had it in the first place –“

Mickey’s eyebrows suddenly shot up. “Oh, so you think you can tell me to send him to the fuckin’ clinic and shit, having me look like a dumb ass when you said all that shit about catching it early on and shit, only to look me dead in the eye and say that he doesn’t need it anymore?” Fiona brought a hand up to her face and pinched her own temple. He was the most confusing guy she’s ever encountered, and she’s practically dated every Denver Bronco at this point. “So all that shit you said doesn’t matter anymore?”

“Mickey,” Fiona replied, her voice a little stronger, “I’m telling you that all of this never happened.”

Mickey shook his head rapidly. “No,” he responded. “I’m not putting Ian in fucking danger again. We’re going to the clinic.” He walked past Fiona and headed to his bedroom, where Ian emerged seconds later.

Fiona groaned as she watched Mickey storm away. “Mickey!” But it was too late; he had already slammed the door before he could hear a word she had to say.

Ian turned his head from Mickey’s bedroom door to Fiona. “The hell’s going on?”

Fiona sighed, running a hand through her brunette hair. “He thinks you have bipolar disorder now,” she answered, gritting her teeth.

“Holy shit. Really?”

“He needs medical attention, Ian,” Fiona practically begged. “You see how much worse it’s gotten, right?”

Ian folded his arms in front of his chest, nodding at Fiona’s words. “Y-Yeah,  Fi, I get it,” he agreed. “Just…how are we gonna get him to a hospital? If we tell him what’s happening, he’s gonna tell us how wrong we are and get mad at us.”

Fiona’s shoulders slumped at him, and judging by the look on her face, Ian knew that there was only one option that the two of them could go with.

* * *

“Mickey?” Fiona poked her head through Mickey’s bedroom door. Luckily, the Milkovich was all dressed up in a gray, short-sleeved T-Shirt and some jeans. On that front, there was no problem getting him prepared to leave the house. “Can you come in the living room for a minute? We need to talk.”

It was Mickey’s turn to be the confused one, which was understandable given the fact that he’s the only one that doesn’t know what’s going on.

He followed Fiona out of his room and into the living room, where Ian, Mandy, and Veronica were already seated. Mickey stopped in place for a moment, catching all of their eyes on him. “The hell’s going on? Was there a fire?” Ian’s eyes fell to his feet, not wanting to witness how terribly this all would go.

“Mickey, have a seat,” Veronica stated calmly, patting the cushion right next to her.

Once Mickey was seated between Veronica and Ian, Mandy stood up from her seat and went to stand beside Fiona. “There’s something you should know, Mick,” Mandy started. “You don’t realize it yet, but when you do, understand that we need to do whatever we can to help, or else it’ll get worse.”

“W-Wait, wait,” Mickey spoke, “what the fuck are you –“

“Just listen to us, please,” Fiona begged, and Mickey was back to his attentive self. Fiona sighed, folding her hands in front of her to keep her from shaking. “Do you remember what you said to me today? You know, about…looking for Ian’s meds and, um…getting a new prescription and all that? Do you remember when we had that talk?”

“Yeah.”

The room was silent again. No one in the room wanted to say the news anymore than the other, and Mickey couldn’t place two and two together, for the life of him. “Well, uh,” Fiona continued, “if we want to get medication, we would have to go to the clinic, right?” Mickey nodded slowly. “Only problem is…well,” Fiona stammered, “it’s not medication for _Ian_.”

“I’m not following you.”

“Mickey,” Veronica spoke, and Mickey turned his head so he was facing her. She folded her hands on her lap and closed her eyes and then opened them momentarily. “We’re all pretty concerned for you since…well, what happened yesterday. According to Ian and Mandy, there have been several… _issues_ involving you, and, uh…”

Mickey glanced at Ian right next to him and then Mandy. _The fuck were they talking about me for?_

“I think…you might have a mental illness we need to concern ourselves for.”

 _She has to be fucking kidding me_ , Mickey thought, frowning at Veronica. “What the fuck do you mean, I have a mental illness? There’s nothing wrong with me; I’m fine.”

“You might be fine now, but there’s no telling what could happen later on,” Fiona explained to him. “Do you remember all the things you’ve been doing recently? Ian’s told us about the club thing and your worry about him leaving the house. Then there was the phone call to our house yesterday –“

“You tried to hurt yourself, Mickey,” Mandy added, catching Fiona and Veronica by surprise. “A little while after you and Lana got married, and then you had that blade in your bed? Don’t you remember that?”

Mickey just frowned at her, bewildered. Ian knew something like this would happen. Mickey was in the denial stage of this process, and it was difficult to get him out of it.

“We want to be a hundred percent sure, sweetie,” Veronica spoke softly. “I have the number to the clinic, and you’re free to sign yourself up there and commit to treatment. All of us will help you get there. It’s all just a matter of you willing to accept your potential illness.”

“Potential illness?” Mickey asked, standing up out of his seat. His chest was rising and falling in anger, and the tension rose in the room. “I don’t have a fucking mental illness; I told you guys I’m fine.”

“We don’t think so, Mickey,” Fiona explained, “and you could possibly be a danger to yourself and other people. Think about how Ian’s feeling about all this.”

Mickey’s eyes trained down to Ian’s. The redhead could feel his heart breaking as Mickey replied, “Ian’s fucking fine. _We’re_ fine. Just because I want to look out for him doesn’t mean something’s wrong with me.” No one in the room replied, and Ian could see Mickey’s eyes get a little red. Mickey’s heart started racing the second he saw Ian glance away from him in shame. “There’s nothing fucking wrong with me. I promise. I’m fine!”

“We know how much Ian loves you, Mick,” Mandy spoke calmly, swallowing a bit at Mickey’s distressed facial expression, “and we want whatever makes you both happy. Ian’s clearly not happy right now; he wants you to be okay, but he knows you’re not.”

At the mention of Ian’s name, Mickey turned his head back over to Ian desperately, his chin trembling a bit. “You…” Mickey began, a tear falling down his face. “Ian, please don’t tell me you…”

Ian didn’t respond, because if he did, he would break down in front of Mickey right then and there. He couldn’t bring himself to do it.

Mickey rapidly shook his head at Ian’s silence. His eyes fell upon everyone else in the room, his head still shaking. “No. No, fuck you guys. You’re not gonna do this to me.” He turned on his heel and darted to his room, prompting everyone else to stand up and watching him storm away.

“Mickey!” Fiona shouted, and she and Mandy ran towards him only to get the door slammed in their faces. “Mick!” Fiona tried again, banging against the door.

“Mickey, please come out!” Mandy begged.

Veronica pulled her cell phone out of her purse and went to stand by the window. “You want me to call them, Fi?”

Ian looked between Veronica and Fiona in panic. “Wait, what’s going on?”

“We gotta get him out of there,” Fiona reminded Ian.

“Wait, you’re gonna call the hospital on him?”

“Ian, he’s trapped himself in his room. Who knows if he’s trying to harm himself right now?” Ian knew Fiona had a point about that, though he does believe that there should be another way to ease him out rather than banging on his bedroom door.

Mandy ran a hand through her dark hair, walking to the wall on the other side of Mickey’s door and resting her forehead against it. “Fuck.” Mickey is Mandy’s brother, so Ian understands how stressed out she’s feeling right now.

Ian had no idea what he was even thinking about to make him do this, but he stands up and walks over to Mickey’s bedroom door. “Let me help him,” Ian whispered to Fiona. “He’ll probably listen to me. Just…give him some space and let me take care of it, okay?” Fiona, Mandy, and Veronica were a little reluctant with that idea at first, but after a moment, they silently agreed.

When Fiona and Mandy migrated to the window where Veronica was standing, Ian slowly stepped to the bedroom door with the cardboard _Stay the Fuck Out_ sign on it and knocked. “Mickey?” Ian whispered in case the Milkovich was sitting on the floor in front of the door. No response. “Mick?”

“Get the fuck out.”

“Mickey, it’s me. I’m not gonna do anything; I just want to talk.”

“No.”

Ian was getting worried. Now Mickey really didn’t trust Ian anymore, the redhead assumed. “Mickey, you have my word. I promise. I won’t do anything to you. We’re not gonna make you leave the house or anything. I just want to talk to my boyfriend for just a minute. So – please?” Ian was desperate here. Getting the silent treatment wasn’t helping his case one bit.

About three minutes passed before the bedroom door creaked open. Ian could only see a fraction of Mickey’s face, a trail of tears staining his face that caused Ian’s heart to ache. Ian tried to open the door some more, but Mickey still had a grip onto the door. “Come on, Mick,” Ian whispered softly. Mickey was a little reluctant to do so, but he did anyway, and Ian crouched down to eye level with him and crawled into the room before Mickey shut the door.

Mickey’s eyes were completely red, and his face was more soaked than Ian saw previously. Ian wanted to cry for him because he didn’t want this to be as real as Veronica and Fiona were making it out to be. In retrospect, they were right about the safety of Mickey and those around him. The Gallaghers weren’t that careful when Monica ended up with bipolar disorder herself, and they all knew how much Ian loved Mickey. Fiona was willing to maintain her brother’s happiness even if that meant sending Mickey away for a while.

Again, though, Mickey didn’t want that.

“You know how much I love you, right?” Ian asked, placing a hand on top of Mickey’s. The raven-haired man’s eyes fell to Ian’s hand on top of his, gulping back the lump in his throat. He didn’t even trust Ian to touch him right now, and that hurt Ian more than it should. “I’m just thinking about what’s right for everyone –“

“Is this…” Mickey croaked out, his eyes falling on Ian’s again. “Is this you…breaking up with me?”

“No, Mick,” Ian replied, shaking his head and bringing both hands up to his face. “No, I don’t want to break up with you. It’s just…well, a lot of things have been happening lately – many of them concerning you – and…well –“

“It’s because I got mad about you leaving, is it?” Mickey’s voice sounded so small right now, serving as a new trigger in Ian’s life somehow.

“I didn’t leave, Mickey. You have to know that.”

“Ian, I’m so sorry,” Mickey cried, his body shaking a little bit. “I didn’t mean to do that to you. I was just…I was worried about whether or not you would get hurt or something like that, you know?” Ian nodded. He may not understand a thing Mickey’s saying about him running away, but he’s willing to stay on the same page with him.

Anything to lower his stress levels about this whole situation some, if at all.

Mickey started to shake her head. “But please,” he begged, “please don’t send me to the hospital. I don’t fucking deserve that, Ian. You know that.”

“I can’t help you if you won’t help yourself.”

Mickey’s eyes got a little bigger, more tears threatening to leave his eyes. “You know me, Ian. You know who I am, Ian. There’s nothing wrong with me, Ian. I’m fine. Look at me. It’s Mickey. I’m right fucking here, Ian. Please.” More tears fell from Mickey’s face, and those from Ian’s eyes did the same.

“There’s nothing I can do, Mick,” Ian sobbed. “Fiona wants you to go to the clinic and get you checked out.”

“Ian, no. Please.”

“We’ll go with you, Mickey. We’ll be right behind you on the way there.”

“I can’t go to the fucking hospital, Ian. They’re gonna take me away from you, and –“ Mickey let out some shaky breaths that made Ian shut his eyes tightly. “I can’t fucking – you can’t let me go, Ian. I don’t want you to let me go again. Please, Ian. Please.”

The front door opened, and Ian knew that the hospital officials were already there to pick Mickey up. He had to stay strong for Mickey for a little while longer; he had no intention on scaring him away, but he would eventually be locked up in a hospital unit for the next few days. Being without Mickey for that long wasn’t the plan Ian wanted to go with, but he knew it had to happen at some point.

“Ian! Mickey!” Veronica’s voice called from outside Mickey’s bedroom door.

Mickey’s head rapidly shook at the sound of her voice, bringing both of his hands up to his ears. “No, no, no, no, no, no!”

“Mickey Milkovich?” An unfamiliar male voice rang through Ian’s ears. This must be the man that was going to put Mickey in the ambulance.

Ian tried to open the door, but Mickey tried blocking the door from where he sat. “Ian, no. Don’t.”

“Mickey, I have to.”

“Ian, I fucking swear to God –“

“Ian, is he okay?” Fiona called from the other side.

“Fiona, he won’t let me out!” Ian called to her, pulling hard onto the door handle. Every time he pulled, Mickey pushed the door closed with his back. “Mickey, please. We have to go. Let me open the door!”

Mickey continued to shake his head. This time, though, he brought both of his hands down from his ears, his right hand reaching for something in his right pants pocket. Ian almost didn’t know what was going on until Mickey swiped out his switchblade.

“Mickey, what the fuck?”

“Ian, fucking don’t!”

“Mickey, stop!”

At the sound of Ian’s voice, the door was slammed wide open with force unexpectedly, two EMTs bursting through Mickey’s room. They both watched as Ian tried grabbing the switchblade away from Mickey. Both boys were crying at this point and struggling with each other until one of the EMTs grabbed Mickey’s right arm, forcing it away from his left one.

“Get off me!” Mickey growled, trying to push the EMT away, but it was no use. Both EMTs were holding Mickey down at this point, and Ian had scrambled away from them so they could give Mickey his sedative. While this happened, Mickey looked straight ahead, more tears falling from his eyes as he called, “Ian!”

Seconds later, a needle was inserted through the skin in Mickey’s neck, and he was out like a light.

Ian didn’t stop crying when Mickey was sedated in front of him. He didn’t stop crying when they put Mickey on the stretcher and onto the ambulance. He didn’t stop crying when Fiona and Mandy helped check him into the mental hospital. He didn’t stop crying when Mickey was left behind in the hospital. He didn’t stop crying on the way back home. He didn’t stop crying on his way back to the Milkovich residence, where Mandy went to dispose the switchblade Mickey used to cut himself.

Ian didn’t stop crying for the next few days. He doesn’t think he’ll ever stop crying, especially knowing that his boyfriend is lost within the deep, dark clouds of depression and paranoia that brought heavy storms right above his own head.

**Author's Note:**

> This was easy and hard to write at the same time. Easy because I already knew the direction I kinda wanted to go in; hard because 1) this is a very touchy subject (idk how people are gonna take the end of this, either, so...), and 2) it took so long for me to type everything on my document, lmfao. Also, to the person who sent this, you don't have to be a native speaker. Actually, your English is fine the way it is. :)
> 
> I'm also trying to do this thing where I do all of the easy prompts first and the hard ones later (I was doing them in order at first, but idk if that's doing so well right now since things are going so slow). I'm probably gonna close prompts and stuff until I can get everything in order. If you want to talk to me about anything aside from prompts, though, you're free to send me a message [here](http://promqueen-and-hairgel.tumblr.com/ask). I hope everyone has a really great day/night, and happy reading. <3
> 
> P.S., Ariana Grande's album got released today, and that gave me the drive to type the end of this out, lmao. <3


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